Chapter 1

Jane Rizzoli strode into the Boston Children's hospital with a heavy heart, her partner, Barry Frost on her tail. As Boston's finest homicide Detectives, they had seen a lot of death, some much more horrific than others, but all were equally tragic. None more so than a child's death, however, and it was that which had brought them to the busy wards of this hospital at three in the morning.

Jane stopped at the reception desk in the crowded waiting room, where a harried nurse was checking forms and typing so fast her hands were a blur on the keyboard.

"Excuse me," Jane started, "I'm Detective Rizzoli and this is my partner, Detective Frost. Somebody called us about a child, Jonathan Craig?"

The woman nodded and then just as quickly shook her head. "Its so terrible, what happened to the boy. He was only nine years old, he had so much life ahead of him."

Jane nodded in agreement. "Could you tell us where we can find him, and who made the call?" She prompted.

"In the morgue, dear. The pathologist is with him, she's the one who made the call."

"Thank you." Jane gave a friendly half smile before turning to leave the waiting area. She followed the signs directing her to the morgue, which she soon found was in the basement of the building. Several flights of stairs later, she and Frost emerged into a clinical area which seemed to be deserted, with only the odd whirr and burr of several machines permeating the silence.

"Hello?" Jane called out whilst her brown eyes scanned the room, searching for life.

"Over here," a cool, collected voice replied. Jane and Frost followed the voice around a stack of filing cabinets to a small but well ordered office area, where the speaker sat with her back to them. All Jane could see was a well-kept mane of honey-blonde hair that flowed freely over the woman's trim shoulders. Her posture was perfect, her back straight as she leaned over the file on her desk, the pen in her hand flicking this way and that as she wrote notes. Jane cleared her throat.

"You're the pathologist?" the Detective started, thinking it as good a question as any to begin with.

"Yes, that would be me." The woman finally placed down her pen and gracefully exited her seat. She turned to face the two detectives, a polite but grim smile on her elfin face. "I'm Dr. Maura Doyle."

The first things Jane noticed were the two intelligent green eyes which kept steady contact with hers. The second was how stylishly dressed this Doctor was, with her silk blouse and black sheath of a skirt which gave way to two well toned legs. At about a head shorter than Jane, the Doctor had to look up slightly to meet her eyes, and Jane looked down into what was undoubtedly a beautiful face.

"I'm Detective Rizzoli and this is my partner, Detective Frost. You called us about a suspicious death?"

"I did, he's over here." Dr. Doyle led them over to the surgical table, where Jonathan Craig lay covered by a light green sheet. The Doctor donned her surgical scrubs and a pair of sterile gloves before removing the sheet. "Jonathan has been a recurring patient for the last year, usually complaining of stomach cramps and bouts of vomiting. His mother would bring him to the hospital often, sometimes up to three times a week."

The Detectives listened carefully, their expressions grim. Dr. Doyle removed the sheet to reveal a pale, fair haired boy who looked to Jane as if he might wake at any moment and want to run around and shout boisterously. Of course, he would never do that again.

"What was he diagnosed with?" she finally asked, and was rewarded with those intelligent green eyes surveying her in a way that made her feel as if the Doctor was trying to read her thoughts. Maybe she was.

"He was never officially diagnosed with any medical condition. The doctors handling his case believed he was crying out for attention. Crying wolf, I believe is the popular turn of phrase." The Doctor's tone and expression conveyed that she did not believe this theory, and so Jane decided to probe.

"What do you believe happened here, Doctor?" Despite the seriousness of the issue, Jane couldn't help inserting the tiniest hint of teasing in her voice. Perhaps the stench of chemicals in the room was making her light headed, but it was more likely the pretty green eyes that continued to entrance her throughout this conversation.

"I'm afraid I can only make a hypothesis based on the facts." Dr. Doyle replied, her tone matter of fact. Jane smirked.

"Then please, tell us your hypothesis, Dr. Doyle." she said.

The doctor paused a moment, her eyes searching Jane's, clearly trying to pinpoint the source of her humour. Eventually she gave up and her gaze returned to the little boy on the table. "I performed a multitude of tests on Jonathan upon his death, and I found a high concentration of salicylate in his blood stream."

"Salicylate?" Jane asked.

"A mild poison, commonly found in aspirin medications, Pepto Bismol and oil of wintergreen."

"Was there enough in his blood to kill him?" Jane probed, the facts slowly weaving themselves together in her mind to create a full picture.

"More than enough," Dr. Doyle nodded, consulting her notes.

Jane waited a few moments, expecting more. When she realised the Doctor had finished she prompted, "And? Who do you think was poisoning him? The mother?"

Dr. Doyle seemed perturbed at the thought of answering the question. "I couldn't possibly say. Isn't it your job to make that decision, detective?"

Jane frowned. "I'm asking you who you think did this, wasn't that pretty clear?" she looked to Detective Frost for affirmation, who shrugged unhelpfully.

"Oh, I never make guesses or assumptions, Detective, all I am able to present to you are the facts." Dr. Doyle replied, as if this were something Jane should already know.

"Right..." Jane replied, amused, "Well, thank you for your time, Doctor, if you have anything more to tell us, feel free to give me – us – a call." Jane handed over her card as she spoke, and was pleasantly surprised to feel the Doctor's fingers brush across hers. The touch was brief, but electric, leaving Jane with a slight flutter in her chest. She hoped she would get a call.

"You're welcome, Detective, and here's my card, should you have any more questions." Dr. Doyle handed Jane her card with a smile that unmistakably invited Jane to call for something other than work.

Jane studied the card as she and Frost turned to leave. She paused at the doorway, her eyes roving over the name printed on the laminated card.

"Doyle...hmm, any relation to Paddy Doyle?" She was half joking, and smiled teasingly in the Doctor's direction.

"Yes, he's my father." The Doctor replied with a smirk. Nonplussed, Jane stared at her for a moment with her mouth open in a shocked little 'O', and then she promptly spun on her heel and marched away.

Doctor Maura Doyle had always been something of a loner. She'd attended the best schools, one of the most prestigious colleges and a world renowned university, and yet she'd never managed to make a friend at any one of them. She'd had acquaintances of course, the classmates she would see every day and nod a hello to, but she'd never managed to connect with any of them, and not through lack of trying.

In kindergarten, she'd attempted to make friends by bringing in her favourite butterfly collection and attempting to educate the other children on the scientific names of each one. Unfortunately she succeeded only in alienating all the girls and the boys cruelly began to call her the 'bug girl'. When she made it to high school, her habit of correcting others and spouting facts about anything and everything made her an outcast, as it seemed being smarter than all your peers was a reason to be disliked.

Eventually Maura became introverted and learned to enjoy her own company. She flew through her studies and came to love the world of pathology. The company she couldn't get from the living she acquired from the dead. They couldn't talk to her, but she could talk for them, give them a voice. As far as she was concerned, it was the perfect job.

Now, as she left the children's hospital, her work done for the day, she thought about the charming detective who had come to visit her. Tall with dark hair that fell in sultry waves and a body obviously honed by hours of exercise. Rizzoli...no doubt of Italian descent, Maura thought as she recalled the chiselled jaw and sculpted cheekbones. The detective was indeed a beautiful specimen, and one that Maura could not afford to get involved with.

She pondered this resolution as she ducked into the sleek black limo her father had sent for her. She had promised to have dinner with him at his favourite restaurant that night. He'd said it was to be a casual affair, but she was quite certain it would turn to business. It always did. Not that she minded, of course, because without business, conversations between her and her father were awkward at best.

Le Bon Mange, one of Boston's swankiest restaurants, was sporting a waiting line almost a mile long when Maura arrived. It was amusing to see that so many would stand out in the cold autumn air for hours just to get a table here. She of course was permitted to enter as soon as she stepped out of the limo, her father having already made reservations. Pointless, really, as merely mentioning the name Doyle would have gotten her any seat in the house.

She made her way inside and was shown to her father's usual table, where she was seated and almost instantly served her usual drink, a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild. She'd always been a connoisseur of fine wines, and at almost two grand a bottle, the red liquid swirling in her glass was one of the finest. She took delicate sips of it whilst she waited, and entertained herself by studying the other patrons around her. She found it a fun little game to diagnose their medical problems by sight alone. She was quite good at it, if she did say so herself.

She was in the middle of examining the portly man at the corner table (sleep apnea and osteoarthritis, perhaps?) when Patrick Doyle arrived. Maura stood and accepted a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before sitting again. Paddy sat too, whilst his lone bodyguard stood a little ways behind him and scanned the room, constantly alert.

When they were both settled and their orders had been taken, (rib steak for him, smoked salmon for her) Paddy was the first to speak.

"My people tell me the police came to see you today." There was a pause in which he obviously expected Maura to elaborate. When she didn't, he went on, "Are you in some kind of trouble?" There was none of the Irish brogue left in Paddy's accent, he was a born and bred Bostonite. His voice was deep and very slightly raspy, as if his throat had been burned by one too many Irish whiskeys.

In contrast, Maura's voice was a high lilt, melodious but not so much that it made her appear whimsical. Though she did like to be whimsical when time and circumstances allowed.

"You need new people, because if yours were any good you'd know that I personally called the detectives there myself." She said.

"What for?"

"You know I can't discuss that with you, father. The law states-"

"I know what the law states, Maura, I know the rules like the back of my hand. But since when did any of them apply to people like us?" Paddy interrupted, staring down his daughter like she'd suddenly become a stranger to him.

"Since I decided to put my pathology degrees to some use. But don't worry, I won't be spilling all of our secrets to the enemy. I know where my loyalties lie." Maura replied, taking another sip of her splendid wine.

"You see that you remember. Speaking of which, I've a certain associate coming into town this weekend. He's so new to the business that he's a little naïve to the way things work. He's stepping on a few toes, so to speak. Can I count on you to give him a little push in the right direction?"

Maura remained quiet but they both knew she would. She was as much a part of Paddy's dangerous world as he was, and doing jobs like these came second nature, like her talent for medicine. Of course, that didn't mean she liked it, only that she could do it.

It was nearing midnight when Jane finally plodded up the stairs to home sweet home. She opened the door and was immediately ambushed by a scraggly looking little dog, who yipped and barked like she hadn't been home in years.

"Okay, okay! I get it, you missed me!" She picked the little noise-maker up and carried her into the kitchen. "You ready for some food, Jo Friday?" The vigorously wagging tail was answer enough, and Jane placed her down in order to spoon out the dog food.

When Jo Friday was suitably fed and watered, Jane flopped down onto her couch and allowed herself to relax for a moment. It had been a long day, starting with a prank call that had turned out to be a store mannequin covered in fake blood and ending with the tragic case of little Johnny Craig. She and Frost had confronted the mother of the child and she'd confessed to poisoning her son continuously in order to get attention. Jane had arrested her, but not long after having arrived at the station the brakes had been slammed on by the woman's attorney, who was pleading insanity.

Jane sighed at a world full of so many bad people. For the millionth time she wondered why she'd ever decided to become an officer of the law, but knew it wouldn't take her long to find the answer. Jane had always been compelled to protect other people, had always stood up for the weak and defended those who could not defend themselves. It was only natural that she had progressed to police work. She'd risen steadily through the ranks until she'd been offered a position in homicide. At first she'd been reluctant to take the job. Her passion was for protecting the living, and to take a job that dealt with those who hadn't been protected enough seemed a backwards idea. But logic eventually won out. She might not be able to protect the dead, but she could stop their killers from killing again.

The face of Dr Maura Doyle careened into the forefront of her mind, followed closely by the mugshot of Paddy Doyle, which she had seen time and time again on the police databases. She tried to see a resemblance between the two, but couldn't, and surmised Maura must look more like her mother. And who was that? The databases had never mentioned a wife, and it was unlike Paddy, to whom appearances were everything, to take on a child produced by a fling. Of course nobody had ever mentioned a daughter, either. Jane started to wonder just how much the detectives who followed Paddy around all day had missed.

Jane couldn't imagine anybody getting a glimpse of Maura and forgetting her. She had the kind of face one would remember, elfin and beautiful, with a smile that could bring many a man to his knees. Not to mention a few women, Jane noted as her thighs tensed at the thought of that smile being turned on her. She's a dangerous woman, Rizzoli, you should keep away.

Jo Friday chose that moment to hop up onto the couch and settle cosily in her lap. She stroked the dog's ratty fur, resolving to give her a bath sometime soon. Maura Doyle wasn't far from her thoughts, though. "If there's one thing I know about myself, Jo Friday, its that I've never been one to follow the rules."

Chapter 2

"Daniel Grady," were the first words Frost said to Jane when she rolled into the station the Monday after a long weekend of trying not to think of Maura Doyle. She went and stood by her partner's desk, a steaming cup of strong coffee in each of her hands. She placed one on Frost's desk and took a long gulp of the other, sighing as her caffeine fix was administered.

"Daniel Grady?" She finally asked.

"A jumper, an anonymous caller reported it this morning. The body was found on the pavement in front of a new office block down in the financial district." Frost explained.

"If it was a jumper then why hasn't it been given to Suicide?" Jane asked, frowning.

"They don't think he jumped by choice."

"I assume they took the body before figuring that out?" Frost nodded and Jane scowled. That was a whole bucket of evidence down the toilet. "Where is it now?"

"The basement."

"Lets get to it then."

When Jane and Frost walked into the pathology lab, Dr T. Pike was nowhere to be seen. Jane found this equally annoying and relieving. Pike was one of the most difficult people to get along with, as a friend as well as a colleague. He had a tendency to rub people the wrong way. Jane found it more difficult than most because she had a feeling the doctor had a little crush on her, which he expressed by making jibes about her intelligence and showing general disdain towards her. This didn't bother her, as she was quite capable of giving as much as she got. What bothered her was the way he drew out the examinations in order to show off. Jane was not the most patient of people.

"Pike! You in here!?" She called out, tired of playing hide and seek.

"Dr Pike, if you don't mind, Detective, I didn't spend seven years in medical school so people could bark my name without my official title." Pike swept past Jane and Frost, a strong smell of bad cologne following in his wake.

"Dr Pike," Jane started, as sickly sweet as she could manage, "perhaps you would care to show us the body of Daniel Grady? And offer your superior opinion on his death?"

"Keep your compliments to yourself, Detective, I've no time to flirt with colleagues. Some of us in this building actually have work to do."

"Then please, tell us what you've found." Jane said through gritted teeth.

"Its very simple," Dr. Pike began as he peeled the sterile cover off the body. The body of Daniel Grady was lay face down on the table, naked and covered in bruises. A large section of his skull had been pummelled into his brain, presumably by the fall, and as such the Detectives were treated to a view of the trauma area. Frost retched and had to turn away, still not completely comfortable around bloody wounds. "You see here," Pike continued, pointing to some particularly angry bruises below the victim's shoulder blades, "these have formed in the shape of hand prints, and the spinal column beneath them has suffered significant trauma, enough to have killed him after a short period of excruciating pain."

"Are you telling me he was pushed so hard he would have died even if he hadn't have fallen? And what about all these other bruises? There are too many to be from one fall." Jane mused over the body, trying to draw her own conclusions whilst asking for Pike's.

"Most of them were created prior to the fall. They are at least twenty four-hours old."

"So somebody worked him over before they killed him..."

Frost finally came back to the table, a little more composed. "He's a big guy, would have taken more than one person to bring him down." He offered.

"Yeah...unless it was a surprise attack. Or maybe he knew his killer. Lets go down to the crime scene, see what we can find out."

The office block was so new it didn't yet have any windows installed. Jane looked inside one of the lowest ones into a bare room. "Who owns the building?"

"Clapham Industries. They're a flooring company, planning to move in as soon as the building is ready." Frost explained.

"And the construction company?"

"Construction Kings, an all female company run by a woman called Sophia Covas."

"All right..." Jane looked up to the top of the building. It was about thirty feet high, plenty of height to cause a fatal fall. She looked down at the ground, searching for signs of blood. If there had been any there, it had been completely cleaned away by someone. The killer, perhaps? She checked the surrounding buildings for CCTV cameras. She couldn't see any but she'd call and ask around anyway, just to be sure.

"Head back to the station, Frost, run a check on everyone in connection with this building and call me with what you find. I'm going to pay this Sophia Covas a visit.

Sophia Covas loved her job. She'd begun Construction Kings at the tender age of twenty-one, when her father had passed away and left her a small fortune in his will. The all-woman business had grown into a small empire in the ten years it had been going, with most of Boston's newest buildings having been constructed by her workers. She had offices all over the city and the company was still growing steadily. She was proud of what she had achieved, and as she often looked at the vast skyline from her own mile-high office, she hoped her father was proud too.

She was thinking entirely different thoughts as she gazed at the view now, however, and sighed deeply. "You've put me in a very difficult position, you know." She murmured.

"I'm aware. In all fairness it wasn't supposed to happen like this, Sophia, and I apologise."

"Its a little late for an apology, Maura." Sophia turned and went to join Maura on the sofa. She put as much distance as she could between them and rubbed her tired blue eyes. "Are the cops likely to come sniffing around here?"

"More than likely," Maura answered, her hands clasped and resting on her crossed knees. "Will you be prepared to tell them what I've told you to say? There's a substantial gift I have for you if you do."

"You know full well I don't want your money. You know what I want, Maura." Sophia snapped. Maura smiled gently and gracefully shifted closer, until she was able to grasp Sophia's chin in her dainty fingers and pull it around. Sophia was a beautiful woman. She had light blue eyes, uncommon in Latina women, and a fiery temper when frustrated, which was a much more common trait.

"You can't have me, Sophia. I'm not looking for a wife. I'm sorry." She kissed Sophia on her full lips, her hand moving from the woman's chin to the back of her neck where she grasped the short dark tendrils that danced around Sophia's neck. There was some slight resistance at first, then Sophia responded, hungrily playing her tongue along Maura's bottom lip until it was allowed entry. Sophia groaned and took her fill, knowing that it could be weeks before she saw Maura again.

For several minutes the sound of their lips moving together was all that could be heard, and then shouting could be discerned coming from outside the office. They pulled apart when the door swung open to reveal Jane Rizzoli, who halted instantly when she saw Maura and Sophia on the sofa together. Sophia was leaning across Maura, one arm draped behind her head and the other still lightly caressing her thigh. The room was silent until two security officers and Sophia's assistant came barrelling into the room behind Jane.

"Miss Covas, I'm sorry, she wouldn't listen, I tried-" The assistant tried to explain.

"Detective Rizzoli, homicide." Jane cut in, flashing her badge at everybody in the room. "I have some questions for Miss Covas here."

"Its quite all right, Mrs Matthews, I can take it from here." Sophia said, and dismissed her staff with a wave of her hand. She stood, disentangling herself from Maura, who also stood and headed for the door. She smiled at Jane and raised her eyebrow a little as she passed, and Jane couldn't help the slight twitch that occurred between her legs. It was pretty clear that Maura already had someone on her arm, however, and Jane wasn't supposed to be getting involved with a mob boss' daughter anyway.

When the door closed behind Maura, Jane dropped into the seat opposite Sophia's desk chair, avoiding the sofa where she could still see the image of the two women sharing their intimate moment. Without meaning to, she started to wonder what she might have seen if she'd walked in ten minutes later. Maybe she'd have heard a cry as a dark head bobbed between outspread legs, a whimper as a tongue teased and lustful moans as the dam broke and Maura threw her head back in ecstasy.

"Detective?"

"Wh-what?" Jane was red-faced as she came to her senses. She coughed, he throat having gone suddenly dry and her heart pounding like the hooves of a racehorse. "Sorry, I was, hmm, lost in thought."

"Right...so you said you have some questions for me?" Sophia reminded her. There was a slight smirk to her smile that made Jane feel like growling. She settled for a grimace instead and mentally checked her questions. Then she disregarded them in favour of a more pressing question.

"How do you know Maura Doyle?" she asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" Sophia responded with a chuckle.

"I mean how did you meet?"

"Our fathers were friends, we've known each other since we were in diapers. Is this really relevant, Detective?"

"Its very relevant. Can you tell me what you were doing between ten and twelve PM on Saturday night?"

"I was here."

"Do you always work so late at the weekends?"

"I never said I was working." There was a glint in Sophia's eyes as she spoke, and Jane could easily work out what she was being told.

"Who were you with?"

"A friend."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't disclose that, Detective, its more than my business is worth to tell you. Maybe if you tell me what all these questions are about, I could help you more." Sophia challenged.

"A man was found dead outside one of your construction sites yesterday morning, know anything about that?"

Sophia adopted a surprised expression. "Are you serious? Where? I need to call the site manager immediately." She was very convincing, but Jane was fairly certain Sophia had already been told.

"The man's name was Daniel Grady. Ring any bells?" She pressed.

"Hmm...no, can't say it does. I can assure you, Detective, this has nothing to do with me or any of my employees."

"Then you won't mind giving me access to the building you're constructing for Clapham industries, will you?"

"Be my guest, Detective. I'll give you the site manager's number and you can arrange a time as you see fit. Is that good enough?"

"Great." Jane replied as sarcastically sweet as she could.

When Jane walked outside it was raining hard. She cursed and was just about to make a dash for her car when she heard her name being called. She looked up to see none other than Maura, stood by a swanky looking black limo with an umbrella in her hand.

"Detective Rizzoli! Might I have a word?" She called in a voice that seemed to be equal parts polite and mischievous. After weighing up her options, Jane changed her course and headed for the black car.

She ducked inside to find Maura already comfortably seated across from the door. She sat adjacent to her, right next to the door so that she could make a speedy exit if necessary. Maura was, after all, a mobster's daughter, and she would do well to remember that fact. She was glad to have enough room to stretch her legs out. Being six foot tall had its many advantages, but fitting into small spaces was not one of them.

"Are you comfortable, Detective?" Maura asked as if sharing a car with the law was something she did every day.

"Plenty," Jane curtly replied, "You said you wanted to tell me something?" she added, but Maura was staring at her hand, which she'd absent-mindedly placed on her knee when she sat down. Too late, she shifted it out of view.

"How did that happen?" Maura asked gently.

"I'm a clumsy detective." Jane nonchalantly answered, though she was doing her best not to meet Maura's questioning gaze.

"Let me look, please." It was something of a command, and despite Jane's reluctance, she slid her hand into Maura's, palm up. Maura looked at the jagged circle of a scar in the middle of the lined skin, a red reminder of past pain. She traced the scar with the fingers of her other hand. The skin was tough but had a silky texture and felt nice against her fingertips.

"You have a matching one on your other hand, don't you?" Maura murmured, still studying Jane's hand.

Jane nodded, surprised that she was allowing this to go on so long. She usually refused to talk about what had put the scars there, but there was just something about Maura Doyle that made her act completely out of the ordinary.

"You were the anonymous detective who became one of Charles Hoyt's victims. They talked about you in the news..." She was no longer asking questions, just stating facts. Jane had adamantly refused to be interviewed and threatened to sue if her name was ever mentioned. She'd only had her detective's badge a few months when she and her first partner, Vince Korsak, had been given the Hoyt case. Jane had been thrilled at the chance to take such a sick and twisted killer down. It should have been the case that made her career, and instead she felt it was her biggest failure.

Awaking from her stupor, Jane pulled her hand away, retreating both physically and mentally from the conversation. "What did you want to tell me?"

Sensing the shut down, Maura reclined in her seat, content to let Jane have her space back for the time being. "Nothing, I wanted to ask if you would have dinner with me."

"You want me to have dinner with you?" Jane was surprised to say the least. "What would daddy Doyle say about that?" She joked.

Maura looked confused. "My father hasn't policed my dates since I was sixteen years old, I'm fairly certain he won't start now."

"No, I meant...never mind..." Jane's bemusement masked her tumbling thoughts. Should she? She shouldn't. But then again...Maura was close to Sophia. Maybe Jane could glean some information about Daniel Grady's death from her. She told herself that was the only reason she was even considering it, the only reason she was going to say yes.

"Okay...dinner it is." The beaming smile Maura sent her way threw all of her logical reasoning out of the car window. Damn, she was beautiful.

When Jane arrived back at the station, Frost had a long list of names he had gathered concerning the Daniel Grady murder. Each and every one of them would have to be interviewed and checked off. It was a laborious job but it had to be done. Maybe one of them would know something.

"Hey Jane, I checked the CCTV outside Sophia Covas' offices, turns out she was telling the truth, and you'll never believe who she was with."

I bet I will, Jane thought, "Who?"

"Janet Harrison, the senator's daughter." Frost said with a grin.

"Janet...?" Jane was surprised, she was sure that Frost was about to say Maura Doyle. "Isn't she married with kids?

Frost nodded "Obviously Sophia is giving her something her husband can't."

"Right, well, suppose we can cross her off the list now." Jane sighed. It was probably going to be a long afternoon. She picked up the list that Frost had made and studied the names, wondering if one of them was their killer. She went and sat at her desk, only to find a sealed envelope sitting on top of her workload. It had Jane written on it it perfect cursive, ensuring there was no confusion about who's it was.

She looked around the office as she opened it, wondering who had delivered the letter and whether they were still watching. She pulled it out and got an instant whiff of Maura Doyle's perfume. It was almost intoxicating, but Jane steadied herself and unfolded the note.

Looking forward to seeing you, Detective. After much thought I have decided to host you in my own home. I'll see you on Friday at eight sharp. I'll be waiting. MD.